A Father's Approval
by dfriendly
Summary: Uther is on his deathbed. And he knows about Gwen. GwenxArthur


**Title: **A Father's Approval

**Author: **dfriendly

**Prompt(s):** Approval

**Rating/Warnings:** PG – character death

**Word Count:** 764

llllllllll

"I suppose you're going to marry that servant girl, now."

Arthur swallowed uneasily, trying not to reveal himself to his father.

Not that it would matter soon, said an unpleasantly blunt voice in his head. Not when his father lay on his deathbed, Gaius having given the grave news that morning that he doubted the king would make it another night.

"Don't think I didn't know, Arthur," Uther wheezed. "I am the king. And I do take particular interest in my son."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably on his chair beside the bed. His face was painted with confusion. "Then why did you never… say anything? … Or _do_ anything?"

Uther's chuckle became a cough, Arthur grimacing at each reminder of his father's limited time.

"I nearly did, several times," the king sighed. "But you seemed so _happy_, Arthur, and I could never bring myself to be the cause of what ended it. So I thought, if I just let it run its course, you might become bored with her and the spark would die out without you having to become disgruntled with me. And yet… it remained."

"I didn't know… you noticed that. That I was happy with her."

"You think a father doesn't know when his son is happy?"

Arthur couldn't help his smile. "I thought I was being discrete."

"You were, perhaps. I only figured it out was because of your change in mood – which I then had looked into. I had recognized you as…" Uther heaved a sigh, visibly unwilling to admit it aloud, "a man in _love_."

"But you wish I hadn't fallen in love."

"I wish you hadn't fallen in love with a _commoner_. And now that this swift illness has crept up on me, I doubt that there's anything I can do about that."

Arthur shook his head and answered him honestly. "No, there isn't."

"But you must not take this _lightly_, Arthur."

"You yourself have admitted my steadfast loyalty to her, my unwavering love for her. And you think I take this lightly? I have wished to marry Guinevere for a long time now."

"Except this woman will not just be your wife; she'll be the queen of Camelot," Uther pressed.

"Guinevere knows the people better than any noblewoman could."

"And the mother of your children, of _all_ future Pendragons."

"I would hope they all turn out like her. It would counter the arrogance and stubbornness that seems to run in our line."

Uther couldn't help but crack a smile. "Yes, we are very stubborn. It's caused us to butt heads plenty of times over the past few years."

"And I would hope to not end it that way," Arthur said pointedly.

"No, I would rather we not," Uther agreed.

"So might I get your approval?"

"Arthur –"

"_Father_."

Uther puffed the best he could with his frail lungs. "As king, I cannot approve such a match."

Arthur set his jaw and nodded.

"But as your _father_," Uther added. Arthur could hear the unwillingness in his tone as he ground out the words. "I am glad that you have… _found_ someone."

"You could sound a little happier about it," Arthur teased.

Uther's eyes were light-hearted despite himself. "Don't push me, boy."

"So this means I have my _father's_ approval?"

"As close as you're going to get."

Arthur and Uther smiled at each other, the father's weak and the son's sad.

They both knew that if Uther weren't dying that they would be yelling at each other until blue in the face, only ending when one of them got so frustrated they left. And then they would begrudge each other for days, perhaps weeks, months, years. They knew that neither would be willing to surrender.

But now, it wasn't any use to argue. So they might as well not.

lll

Arthur felt a gentle hand stroke his hair. He raised his head off the bed, seeing Gaius hover above his father, looking grim.

Uther's eyes were closed, his chest still.

Arthur turned to whoever was stroking his hair.

"Guinevere?"

She stood next to his chair, sadly shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Arthur," she whispered.

He reached for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her abdomen. He did not feel ashamed to cry in front of her, to wet her dress with his tears. He was not ashamed to love her, so he was not ashamed to need her – in this moment and for the rest of his life.

Arthur just wished that he didn't have to lose a father to gain a wife.


End file.
